


Façade

by ohpleaselarry



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Cuddling, Denial, Fake Relationship, Fluff, Hidden Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Singer!ethan, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, TW: gun usage and violence, bodyguard!mark, fake girlfriend, handjobs, hidden sexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:40:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry
Summary: Ethan is a singer on tour in the biggest band in the world. Mark is his personal bodyguard who falls for him so quickly he almost doesn’t notice.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 24
Kudos: 374





	Façade

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic was inspired by the miley Cyrus episode of black mirror, and the song Ethan sings is her song from the show as well. 
> 
> Writing this brought me right back to my Larry days for reasons that will be obvious to any of you who were/are Larry shippers. This led me down a rabbit hole where I got an idea for a Larry fic for the first time in actual YEARS. 
> 
> So yeah, I’m going to post this on insta as well: There won’t be a new fic for a bit because both the Larry fic and my next crankiplier fic are going to be long bois. I’m not sure which one will be finished first but just know this doesn’t mean I’ll be stopping crankiplier! I still have MANY prompts I want to write out. 
> 
> I know there’s a good handful of you who read my Larry shit back then and will probably be mad excited that I’m writing them again, but pls don’t be disappointed if it turns out to be a one off and I don’t write another. I currently only have this one idea and nothing else for Larry. 
> 
> So yeah, just a little update. Next fic will take a while because I’ll be writing both of them probably at the same time, so I don’t know which will be posted first! But just look forward to the fact that they’ll both be long ones, I know yall loved my last 38k monster haha. Thanks so much for all of the support I’m at the point where your comments are motivating me to write so much that I’m losing sleep writing haha! 
> 
> Cheers 💚

“Mark, it’s just for the summer.” 

Mark sighs, sitting back in his chair, phone to his ear. 

“Theo, did it not occur to you that I became a professor for the sole reason to have summers off?” 

“Mark, please. I’ve been doing this job for six years. If I don’t take a hiatus Kate’s gonna fuckin’ leave me.”

“Surely I’m not the only person you know who’s taken some self defence classes—“

“Mark, you don’t understand. This kid’s situation isn’t what it seems. I can’t take a break until they find someone who they can trust with his life. Listen, I already told them I have a well built cousin who I trust, and if you come immediately, I can get married.”

“What do you mean it isn’t what it seems? How complicated can it be to be in some pop band?” 

“I can’t tell you unless you agree. Please, he’s under a lot of shit. Besides, the pay is really damn good.” 

Mark looks around his dumb ass loft with a groan, standing up to make sure his old suitcase is still intact. He hasn’t used it in years. 

“Should’ve opened up with that one.”

-

“Didn’t realise there’d be so much paperwork.” Mark jokes, only to be met with blank stares. He clears his throat awkwardly, signing paper after paper. 

“Mr. Fischbach, this job is a bit more than a bodyguard. In the past six years, we’ve had three attempts at Ethan Nestor’s life.”

“What?”

“By signing these papers, you agree to put your life at risk to protect him. You agree that everything we tell you in the next ten minutes will never leave this room. This contract, while it only requires you to work until September 13th, you may not speak to anyone about the details of your work until September of 2040.”

“2040?” Mark looks around the group, feeling a bit lost. He came into this thinking it’s just a simple bodyguard job for some kid in a band. What didn’t Theo tell him?

“Now, if anyone asks you, whether it be a family member, paparazzi, or a friend, Ethan Nestor is just fine. He loves to tour, and he loves his girlfriend, Kara.” 

“Right, Kara.” Mark nods, remembering the tall blonde from his light research he’d done on the Uber ride over. To be perfectly honest, he’d heard minimum about the band as a whole. Their stuff is pop songs on the radio type of music. The kind of thing teenage girls go for. 

“The truth is that he’s a bit troubled. Has been for about a year or so. He doesn’t write as much as he used to. I’m sure Theo can give you more information, but do not underestimate him. He will try to get in your head, convince you to sneak him out of hotel rooms, buy him things, anything to get alone so he can get away. He will tell you lies but under no circumstance can you leave him by himself, is that clear?” 

“Yeah..but why? Why does he want to leave so bad? And why can’t he?” Mark frowns, looking over to Theo who is suddenly finding the table a lot more interesting than anything else. 

“He resents his management because they won’t allow him to break up with Kara. They think his..his homosexuality will drop sales. It’s against his contract to go against them.” The woman frowns, clearly ashamed. 

Mark blinks in surprise, looking around the group. They won’t meet his eyes. 

“Are you serious? It’s 2020. He’s just some kid in a band, you really can’t let him be who he is?” 

“It’s not up to us, Mr. Fischbach. We cannot change the fine lines, we are only here to inform you of them. Mr. Nestor is the lead singer of the biggest band in the world right now. His tour is sold out in every city in every stadium for the next two years. I’m sorry to be blunt, but a big factor to Façade’s success is their appeal to teenage girls. The management team believes a gay lead singer would cause a dent.” 

Mark frowns, pissed off at this management team he’s never met. Pitying of this 20 year old he’s also never met. 

“When do I start?”

-

There’s more people crowded outside of the downtown stadium than Mark’s ever seen in his entire life, probably. The hum of their chatter as they wait to be allowed in is audible even from inside. Mark is given an extensive tour from the stadium staff. He’s shown every exit for every possible direction he may need to leave through. He’s shown exactly where to escort the kid before, during, and after the show, and where to go to bring him to his hotel. Nestor is from Maine, apparently. His first show being in LA just happen to happen. 

It’s the first show of the tour. His first day on the job. He’s not exactly nervous, per say. Excited is probably more accurate. He’s going to travel the world doing this. Sure, it’s accompanied by screaming teenagers and possible death threats, but it’s still nice. He doesn’t get much excitement teaching college students. 

Engineering is even less fun than it sounds, but he’s good at it, and he’s good at teaching. That’s all that matters, right? 

Mark blinks out of his thoughts when a sleek black car pulls into the parking garage, followed by five more. The middle car pulls up to him, so Mark steps up and opens the backdoor. 

Ethan Nestor is smaller than he looks in the photos. 

“Mr. Nestor, nice to finally meet you. My name is Mark Fischbach, I’ll be standing in Theo’s place for the summer.” He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it politely. 

“Hi. Just Ethan is fine, please.” His eyes are a striking blue in the shitty fluorescents in the garage. He smells like expensive cologne but otherwise just looks like someone he’d see in one of his classes. Clad in a t shirt and jeans. 

More noticeably, the dark circles from lack of sleep, and the fact that when he smiles politely, it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Alright. Right this way, Ethan.” Mark leads him out of the garage and into the building. The boy trails behind with crossed arms like he’s cold or something. 

“Are you from Korea too? Like Theo?”

“Not physically, no. I was born in Hawaii. I grew up in Ohio and I live here in LA now, actually..but my mom is.” 

“Is your house nice?” Ethan asks, not quite falling in step next to him, just slightly behind. Right, escorting. 

“Yeah it’s alright. It’s a loft, actually.” 

“Think you could convince Sam to let me sleep there tonight?” Ethan asks when they reach the dressing room. Mark holds open the door and follows him inside, and helps set up the various clothing racks and makeup tables so he can get ready for the show. 

“You’re staying at the Beverly Hills tonight. It’s the nicest hotel in the city.” Mark chuckles in disbelief when Ethan plops down on the couch in the middle of the room with a sigh. 

“I’ve stayed in a lot of nice hotels. Nothing beats a home. Besides, I’m supposed to trust you with my life but I don’t even know you.” 

“Staying at my place will make you trust me?” 

Ethan shrugs with a smirk. There’s something mirthful in his eyes. Something Theo warned him endlessly about. The mischievous side to the popstar that can easily distract him if he isn’t careful. 

“We’ll see,” Mark says, “alright, get ready, places in an hour.” He smiles and steps out of the room and takes his place next to the doorway. Standing guard. Watching each passing person carefully. 

Ethan seems like someone he can get along with. Not quite the egotistical rude popstar type he was expecting. This summer won’t be that bad. 

-

Despite not being into the type of music, there’s something to say about Ethan’s voice. He’s completely different on stage, grinning and giving high fives as he sings, dancing all silly with his bandmates, hyping up the crowd during a guitar solo. He’s got a great stage presence, and he keeps the energy high the entire show. 

The moment he steps backstage, his smile falls, his shoulders drop, and he hands off his mic with a defeated look. Whether he’s physically or mentally exhausted Mark isn’t sure. Maybe even both. 

“Good?” He asks the kid, handing him a bottle of water. The boy nods, mustering up a smile like it’s second nature to fake it, downing half the bottle in one go. 

Mark looks over him to the bandmates, all euphoric and loudly celebrating a good show. Does nobody notice the lead singer isn’t happy? Or are they just desensitised to it? Either option makes his stomach twist in annoyance. 

He escorts Ethan back to the dressing room, where the boy showers and changes into a t shirt and joggers. While Mark waits, he finds Sam, the tour manager. 

“Sam, hey, is it normal for Ethan to ask to stay at my place tonight?” 

“Oh, yeah. He stayed at mine in Atlanta last year. Any chance he gets he will pick someone’s place over a hotel.” The man nods, pointing for a woman to carry a box of stage gear to a certain area. 

“Do you know why?”

“Never thought to ask. Maybe he’s lonely? I can cancel his Hills room if you can take him.” 

Mark chews on his lip, glancing up to see Ethan stepping out of the toilets, hair still wet, eyes still sad. 

“Yeah I’ll take him.”

-

“You want music?” Mark asks, settling into the drivers seat as Ethan clicks his seatbelt into place, gesturing to the radio. 

“No thank you.” The boy murmurs, staring out of the window as they pull out of the stadium and into the post-show traffic jam. The surrounding brake lights cast a red glow over the interior of the vehicle. 

“So—“

“Did you take the job for the money or the fame?” Ethan asks, looking over to him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“What?”

“For Theo it was definitely the fame. He doesn’t seem like it at first but he loved being in the rags next to me. I started to notice he was fixing his hair before we’d leave a building.” 

“Theo’s not really like that.”

“Two months ago I was leaving a shop in New York and someone tried to stab me. Theo didn’t notice at first because he was brooding at the paparazzi.” 

Mark frowns, easing the car forward a metre when the traffic chugs on slowly. He looks back to Ethan, who’s eyes are blank as he remembers this happening. His lack of emotion is almost frightening. 

“I had no idea. I thought he left to get married.”

“He did. I didn’t tell anyone, it was just something I noticed. So which is it? Fame or money?” 

“To be perfectly honest, I took it because I’ve been driving the same shitty car since grad school and I need something new.” For some reason, Mark is a little nervous that the kid will be offended. 

Ethan smiles, and it’s a nice one, not fake. 

“Did they tell you everything? The reason you have to keep secrets for god knows how many years?” 

Mark looks back ahead, clearing his throat. 

“Yeah.” 

“Did they tell you  _everything_ though? Or just the part about Kara being a beard?” 

“They kept it short.” Mark is thankful to finally be out of the parking lot, now having an excuse to stare at the road. He can feel Ethan’s eyes on him, just blatantly staring. 

“Did they tell you that I’m not allowed to pierce my ear? Or that my tattoos have to be approved by them? Or that I can’t paint my nails or wear any clothing that might hint at being even androgynous?” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“So you can stop looking so confused about why I’m always pissed off. I’m sure they warned you about me trying to sneak off and shit, but I won’t do it if you’re nice.”

“Theo wasn’t nice?” Mark glances over, finding Ethan’s eyebrows furrowed angrily, chewing at his lip. The boy sits back straight, sighing heavily. 

“He was very adamant about the rules, even behind closed doors.” Ethan says very vaguely. Mark frowns, pulling onto his street. He wants to know more, sort of wants to know everything, but he isn’t sure where the line is drawn with being professional or not. He isn’t sure if Ethan wants their relationship to be strictly popstar and bodyguard. He decides the only way to find out is to test the waters. 

“If it were up to me, I’d fuck all of the rules off.” He says, pulling into the garage. Ethan doesn’t say anything, but he smiles at his lap, so it must be okay. 

“Do you have a guest room?” 

“No..but I just washed my sheets before leaving. I didn’t expect to come back until end of tour.” They step out of the car. Mark shoulders his duffel and takes Ethan’s suitcase before he can even try to carry it. The boy smiles and follows him inside, watching him as he unlocks the door and toes off his shoes. 

The loft is quite open floor, so there’s not much of a tour to do. The only thing behind a closed door is the bathroom. Ethan steps around the room looking at everything, then he sits on the edge of his bed, looking thoughtful. 

“I can take the couch.” He says, as if he isn’t the guest here. 

“Not a chance.” Mark chuckles, setting their bags down and stopping at the fridge, opening it up to find some rather lacklustre contents. He didn’t want anything to go bad while he was gone, so it’s mostly just water and juice. 

“Can we get Thai?” Ethan asks, laying back on the bed starfished. 

“You read my mind.”

-

“What’s your favourite band?” 

“Hmm, well there’s this cool band, they’re sorta lowkey. You heard of Façade?” 

“Fuck off, I know you aren’t into our shit.” Ethan laughs, tossing a napkin at him. Mark chuckles, shrugging like he’s shy. 

“Honestly I’m not super into music. Ed Sheeran is nice.” 

“He’s even nicer in person.” Ethan winks, the cheeky fuck. 

“What a flex.” Mark sets his bowl down and leans back onto his hands. Ethan had asked if they could eat on the floor at his tea table. It was an odd request, but it’s not bad. As the hours pass, it feels less like a job and more like they’re just hanging out. 

“Maybe I’ll introduce you when we get to London.”

“Does he even live in London?” 

“Fucked if I know.” Ethan pushes his plate away with a groan, then lies on the cold floor, hands over his head. He has a tattoo on his hip, just barely peeking out with the sliver of skin that’s showing. Mark wants to lift his shirt to see what the tattoo is. He blinks at his own impulsive thoughts, forcing his eyes away only to see that Ethan’s turned his head and is watching him. 

It gets a bit quiet for a moment. The boy, eyes on his, stretches his arms up further, uncovering more of his ink, but Mark doesn’t want to look now, feeling embarrassed. 

“It’s a koi fish.”

Mark looks with the permission, finding the tail of the fish and half of the body. The lines are neat and really dark. He’s considered tattoos on a few occasions, but just never jumped the gun. 

“Looks cool.” 

“Even cooler when you see the whole thing.” Ethan says, but he doesn’t move to pull his shirt up more. Mark looks back to his mischievous smirk, swallowing thickly. 

“Does it mean anything?” Mark asks, trying to get the boy to talk about it to distract from the weird tension in the room. Is this what Theo was warning him about?

“Check it out and see.” 

Ultimately, he’s here to make sure Ethan is safe and comfortable. It’s what his job is. So, if Ethan wants him to do something, surely he should do it right? Especially if it won’t even hurt anyone. 

He scoots closer and without actually touching his skin, lifts the boy’s shirt to reveal the whole tattoo. The tail starts athis hip, and the fish curls up with the head just under his pec. 

“It’s really pretty.” 

“You can touch it if you’d like. I got it a few weeks ago so it’s still raised.” 

Mark meets his eyes, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Ethan smiles, tilting his head a bit. Either he’s blinking slowly on purpose or Mark is just very abruptly realising it’s not just the tattoo that’s pretty. 

He doesn’t double check this time, and touches two fingers to the tail of the fish, trailing them up to feel the raised lines like scars. Well, he supposes that must be what they are. When he gets to the top of the fish, he puts two more fingers on him and feels back down to the bottom. Ethan’s quite fit, despite being small. 

“Are you excited for New York?” He asks to distract himself, taking his fingers away completely. Ethan doesn’t pull his shirt back down, shrugging a bit. 

“I guess. I’ve been there a lot. I’m more excited for Paris, actually. We didn’t go to France our last tour. Can’t remember why.”

“Only place out of the country I’ve been is Korea.” Mark chuckles. Ethan sits up, finally, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“What’s your regular job?” 

“I teach biomedical informatics for biomedical engineering students.” 

“Sounds like something I’d fail.” Ethan smiles sheepishly. He’s very back and forth. One second he’s laughing and the next he’s staring into nothing like he’s dead. 

“It’s not too complicated. What would you do then? If you didn’t get into this?”

“DP probably. I like cameras.” The boy looks away, like he’s remembering something. Mark watches him thoughtfully. 

“Funny, so do I. I almost got into YouTube, actually.” 

“I could see that. You have the voice for it.” 

“How so?” Mark asks, knowing full well that his voice isn’t bad. 

“It’s, y’know..nice. I bet you can sing.” Ethan leans back on an arm, smirking a bit. He’s flirting. 

“Nah. I’d be terrible on stage.” 

“I bet you’d be great. You don’t seem like the nervous type.” 

Mark shrugs, suddenly wondering if letting Ethan stay at his place was a bad idea. Wondering if maybe the boy has a different idea of how this night will go than he does. 

“It’s getting late. Gotta get up early tomorrow.” He says. Ethan sighs like he doesn’t want to sleep, sitting up to grab his plate. Mark follows along, throwing away empty bags and packages. Ethan’s at the sink, warming up the water to wash dishes. 

“I got it.” Mark says, stepping up next to him so he can take over. Ethan raises an eyebrow, picking up the sponge brush. 

“Popstars can do dishes, too.” 

“It’s not about that. You’re my guest, please.” Mark takes the brush from him, picking up a plate to scrub. 

Ethan hums thoughtfully. 

“Well alright, I’ll remember that when you stay at mine in New York.” 

“Am I?”

“You’re my personal bodyguard, better get used to spending time with me. Goodnight.” The boy smiles and places a hand on his arm, tilting up and kissing his cheek. 

Mark stops scrubbing, blinking in surprise. Ethan yawns casually like it’s a normal thing to do and pads over to the bed, kicking his jeans off and climbing in. Maybe it is a normal thing to do. Mark hasn’t met a lot of celebrities, so he doesn’t know. 

He stops staring and turns back to the dishes, ignoring the way his cheek tingles where Ethan’s lips just were. 

-

The moment they get back into the car, Ethan starts to pull his sleeves over his hands, eyes on his lap. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe he’s sad. 

“Two whole days in New York. That’ll be fun, right? To spend time home.”

“I’m from Maine. I just have a house there.” 

“I know..I just meant, like, in your own bed. Can go to, I dunno, your favourite café?” 

Ethan turns his head to him, smile small but definitely there. 

“I can’t really do that anymore. Get recognised.” 

Mark can’t really offer up anymore to lighten the mood. He pulls out of the driveway, sorting out the GPS to get to the airport. It’s quiet for a few long minutes. He aches to turn on the radio to break it, but knows the boy doesn’t want it. 

“Sorry..I hate to complain. I know I have it better off than most.” 

“Most aren’t on puppet strings either.” Mark surprises himself with the angry tone. It’s almost ironic, to disagree with the fine lines that he’s employed to regulate. 

“Mark, what did Theo tell you?” 

“What do you mean?”

“When he was warning you about me. What did he say?” Ethan’s avoiding eye contact, staring straight ahead as they drive along. Mark holds the wheel tightly, clearing his throat. 

“I was warned that you were a liar. That you would get in my head, or try to get me away from you so you could sneak off and rebel.” 

Ethan huffs like it’s a joke, turning in his seat to look at him. Mark glances over as much as he can while driving. 

“Do you believe that’s true?” 

“I don’t know you well enough yet to decide.” 

“Well maybe you’ll learn a bit tonight.” 

“Why?” They stop at a red light. Mark looks over to the boy, finding he’s still being watched. 

“Being in someone’s house tells you a lot about a person.”

“Oh yeah? What did you learn about me, then?” He smiles, but it slowly falls when Ethan leans a bit closer to the console between them, arm on his hand a lot like last night. 

“You’re kind under the bodyguard brooding. You live alone but you aren’t trying to change that. You don’t enjoy engineering but you like teaching. You’re shit at interior decorating and yet you don’t have anyone to change that, so I assume you aren’t with anyone romantically.” 

“You got all of that from one night at my loft?” 

“Oh yeah, you also like touching my tattoos. Green light.” 

Mark looks back to the road, continuing to drive. His throat is suddenly dry. He doesn’t need to look to see Ethan’s smirk. Is this what Theo meant? When he said the boy would get in his head? Or is he always just a flirty fuck?

“You’re very blunt, that’s one thing I’ve learned.” 

“Does it bother you?” 

“No, it’s rather refreshing.” 

“Just because I’m sort of the reason you got a job doesn’t mean you have to pretend you like me.” Ethan takes his hand away as they pull into the airport, making their way to the parking garage. 

“I’m not pretending, Mr. Nestor.” Mark puts the car in park, looking over with a smile. Ethan smiles right back. 

“I’m glad you took the job. You’re a lot easier to get along with.”

“Theo wasn’t?” 

Ethan’s smile falls into a frown. He turns away, hand moving to the door handle. 

“Don’t move.” Mark says, hopping out and jogging around the car, opening the door for him. Ethan huffs a laugh, shaking his head. 

“You don’t have to do that when we’re alone.” 

“It’s what I’m here for, that doesn’t change if we aren’t around cameras. Ethan, please tell me what Theo did to make you hate him.” 

The boy steps out of the car, not moving away to put space between them. He stands against the car, eyes on him. 

“Do I have to tell you?” 

“Of course not, but he’s my cousin. I want to know if he hurt you. Did he hurt you?” 

“He never physically hurt me, no.” Ethan says very carefully. He’s hiding things. Mark narrows his eyes, shutting the car door next to them, keeping his hand against it, just inches from the boy’s head. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but you have to tell me if there’s someone you need protected from.”

“Because you’re my bodyguard?”

“Yes. If you don’t feel comfortable around someone, I will keep you away from them.”

“Without even knowing why?” He asks, hand lifting to touch Mark’s chest. He doesn’t push him away, eyes wide. 

“Is Theo on that list, Ethan?” 

“Yes.” The boy murmurs quietly, eyebrows furrowing. 

“Okay, that’s all you need to say. C’mon, we’ll miss our flight.”

Ethan doesn’t reply, following him as he brings their luggage through the airport and security, but when Mark opens the door to the private gate, the boy smiles at him. A genuine one. 

-

They go from the private jet right to Madison Square Garden. It’s probably the biggest stadium Mark’s ever seen, not that he’s seen many. 

“You excited?” He asks as they’re given a tour of the different hallways and areas they’ll be visiting through the night. 

“Yeah. Bit jet-lagged, though.” Ethan sighs, stepping out onto the stage. Mark follows him, breath catching at the seats that just seem to go on forever. Every show is sold out, he was told. This entire stadium? Sold out? 

“You can probably fit in a nap before soundcheck. We were supposed to get food but I can order in something.” 

“Don’t think I’m allowed a nap. My voice trainer says it puts my chords to sleep or something.” 

“Sounds like bullshit. I can pull some strings.” Mark grins. Ethan narrows his eyes in suspicion, but trails behind him as they leave the stage. 

“These are your strings?” Ethan asks as he writes  ‘ _vocal meditation in process, do not enter for one hou_ r’ on a sheet of paper. Mark chuckles, grabbing some tape from the makeup table.

“You think it won’t work?” 

“Dunno.” 

Mark brings the paper to the door of the dressing room, taping it on. He locks the door and ushers Ethan over to the couch sat in the middle of the room. The boy lies down, pulling the throw blanket over himself. 

“I think I’ll keep you, you’re turning out to be a lot less strict than I took you for.”

“I’m your bodyguard, not your manager. Hurry up and sleep before the hour’s up.” Mark settles into the opposing chair with a smile. Ethan closes his eyes, bunching his hands up under his chin to sleep. 

He watches as the boy falls asleep, phone unlocked in his hands but not enough to distract him. Knowing he won’t be caught staring, he can’t help but do exactly that. 

He’s had experience with men before, though they weren’t relationships. He’s experimented around but ultimately decided he prefers women. Why he thinks of that now? Maybe it’s the fact that when Ethan’s expression softens as he falls unconscious, Mark immediately gets the urge to crawl onto the couch with him and hold him. 

He looks away, frowning. It’s hard to fight against his own feelings. Whenever he has them for someone, he can’t make it go away. So he accepts them. Whatever, Ethan’s attractive and funny and easy to get along with. It’s not hard to catch feelings. 

Though he accepts them, he knows he can’t act upon them. He’s here for a job. Not only that, but he was specifically told not to allow Ethan to engage with any other men in any more than a friendly manner. Surely that includes himself, right? 

He’s not, like, in love with the kid or something. It’s just a regular attraction, just a mild crush. He can easily resist that, especially since the boy isn’t trying to convince him not to. It should be fine. 

He looks back to Ethan, smiling at the way his nose twitches a bit in his sleep. 

-

Ethan’s house is huge. 

After the show, they head right on over to a gated area where the house sits. It’s pretty secluded, especially for New York. It must’ve been very steeply priced. 

“Not quite my favourite café, but it’s the one place in this city where I won’t be bombarded.” Ethan leans against his counter in his big ass kitchen that looks brand new. 

“You really can’t just go shopping or anything?” 

“I have to send someone else.” The boy muses, reaching into the weirdly fully stocked fridge for a white claw. Someone must’ve went through the house before they arrived, restocking everything and ridding of the dust. 

“Why not go out in a disguise?” 

“Guess I never had a bad influence of a bodyguard to give me the idea.” Ethan smiles, sipping at his drink. Mark watches the way his throat works and pretends he doesn’t enjoy the view. 

“Well, is there somewhere you want to go?” He asks, leaning against the counter on the opposite side. Ethan sets down his drink, twirling a strand of his hair while he thinks the question over. 

“Well, there is this one place I like..”

-

“I’m not sure this’ll work.” Ethan steps out of the cab, chewing on his lip nervously. He’s wearing a beanie, all of his hair tucked up into it, an unmarked hoodie that he says he never wears, and a pair of sunglasses. 

“None of your tattoos are showing. You just look like a regular dude.” 

“Stop walking like a bodyguard and maybe I will.” Ethan nudges him with a grin. Mark’s falls into step next to him casually, trying to loosen his stance, but he’s still on edge. Despite the sun lowering behind the buildings, there’s still a million people on the streets. He should’ve expected that, really. It’s hard not to be on edge when someone passing by could still recognise the boy and yank him away. 

“Where are we headed to?” 

“Right here.” Ethan takes his sleeve and pulls him out of the walkway and up to an unmarked door. Mark frowns, seeing all of the tinted black windows. 

“What is this? A strip club?” 

“No, but you have to promise not to tell anyone what happens in here.” 

“Ethan—“

“Just c’mon, you’ll see.” He turns and pulls the door open. They walk inside to a shop. 

Not just any shop. A sex shop. There’s varieties of sex toys and accessories lining the walls and filling the centre in short aisles. A lady around his age sits at the counter reading a magazine in boredom. 

“Why is this a secret? It’s perfectly normal.” Mark chuckles as he follows the boy through the store. 

“Because I want one of these, and when I asked Theo he just laughed.” Ethan stops in front of the wall of dildos, lowering his sunnies to have a look. Mark shifts on his feet awkwardly. He doesn’t think he wants to know which one of these will be going up Ethan’s arse. He doesn’t think he wants to be able to picture that. 

“So they don’t let you pull, and they don’t allow you toys as a alternate? Man, you’re handling this a lot better than I would.” 

“You want one too?” Ethan asks with a teasing smile. Mark looks around the shop as if there’s anyone even here to listen in. 

“No, I’m not..uh..”

“Oh I see. You’re more of a giver than a taker?” The boy muses, piercing eyes turning back to the toys. Mark swallows thickly, wishing he had something to do with his hands to distract himself. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” He mumbles, watching Ethan finally pick one, a sparkly blue one with a suction cup at the base. So he could use it in the shower, or anywhere really. That picture sits vividly in his mind now that it’s appeared. 

“Well I’m more of a taker. Maybe it’s selfish, but I could take it for hours.” He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, looking up at him innocently as if what he’s saying isn’t dirty as all hell. Mark needs to change the subject immediately. The toy matches Ethan’s eyes. 

“We’re talking about money, right?” 

“Definitely not.” The boy raises an eyebrow, touching his arm gently as he walks away towards the register, flipping his sunglasses back onto his nose. Mark follows, stomach swirling with want. 

Thankfully, the shop packages non-conspicuously. Mark takes the unmarked black bag from him as they leave the shop. The boy is nearly radiant, then, pointing out different things as they pass, telling a story about the time he got mobbed after a broadway show. Mark is helpless, can only walk along and enjoy the boy’s happy mood. It’s a really nice change from his blank state he defaults to sometimes. 

They step into a few clothing stores and the bags in his hands steadily increase. When the sun sets, Ethan complains about the glasses, so they decide it’s time to head back to the house. In the cab, the boy removes his disguise, sitting back in the seat in his t shirt with a sigh. 

“Does the skull have any meaning?” Mark asks during the ride, looking at the skull and flowers combo on the boy’s arm. 

“Not in particular, just thought it was cute. It’s fully healed so you won’t be able to feel anything.” He holds out his arm so Mark can touch it. 

“You have all your bodyguards touch your tattoos?” He asks, holding his elbow with one hand, the other touching the tattoo, tracing the fine lines. 

“Only the cute ones.” Ethan rests his head back against the seat, eyes on him. He’s annoyingly pretty, the passing lights falling onto his exposed neck. Mark wants to kiss him, suddenly. The want comes out of nowhere, taking his breath away. 

“Gonna make me jealous.” He doesn’t explicitly decide to flirt back, but his thoughts are muffling his brain to mouth filter. 

“You want special treatment then?” Ethan asks, turning his arm so then he’s the one doing the touching. Mark should pull away. He should definitely pull away. The air in the car is so thick it’s hard to breathe. 

“Depends on what that entails.”

Ethan lifts his head from the seat and leans in to his ear. He smells really nice. His breath is warm as he whispers, and Mark holds his own, heart racing. 

“I’m going to—“

“Arrived.” The cabbie says a bit too loud, like he’s excited to interrupt. Their bubble is popped, and Mark realised that could’ve gone far too wrong. He can’t let whatever this is happen. He just can’t. 

They climb out of the car and punch in the gate code. The driveway isn’t insanely long, but it’s a bit tiring with all of the bags. Once they get back inside, Ethan steps up to him. Mark backs away, just hitting the wall in the foyer. 

The boy huffs a small laugh, eyes on him as he reaches for the bags in his hand. More disastrous, his other hand that comes to rest on his torso, just above his waistband. Just a tad too low to be platonic. 

“Maybe I’ll finish that sentence if you ever come to your senses.” 

“My senses?” 

“Yeah. Once you get over whatever makes you back away when I get too close.” Ethan takes the dildo bag from him, fingers trailing just a tad lower as he backs away and pads back towards the bedrooms with the bag. 

Mark leans against the wall for quite a while, willing himself not to follow. 

-

He wakes up early the next morning, knowing the boy has an early afternoon show. Climbing out of the guest bed, he does his business and brushes his teeth. Stepping out of the room, he crosses the hall to Ethan’s, peeking in to find an empty bed. 

At 7AM, it’s worrying. Despite only having known him for a few days, it’s fairly obvious that the boy isn’t a morning person. He nearly has to be picked up out of the bed to actually get up. 

Mark checks the bathrooms, then the kitchen. He’s about to open the door to the laundry room, when he hears a soft piano melody. 

He stops, eyebrows furrowing, and follows the sound to the second living room, because of course he has two. He finds Ethan sat at a huge white grand piano, wearing fuzzy socks and an oversized cardigan like he didn’t get dressed. Mark stays at the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. The piano doesn’t sound like anything close to pop songs about summer nights or whatever. 

It’s a sad melody, a slow one. Ethan plays beautifully, as it turns out. He doesn’t expect the singing to start, and it makes his heart skip. 

“I see the animal in his cage you’ve built, are you sure what side you’re on? Feel the hollowness inside of your heart, everything right where it belongs.

If you look at your reflection, is it all you want it to be? If you could look right through the cracks, would you find yourself afraid to see?” Ethan sighs and scrubs at his eyes like he’s annoyed, picking up a journal and erasing something to change, muttering to himself. He sets the journal back onto the stand but stops, hands hovering above the keys. His shoulders hike up a bit, like he knows he’s being watched. 

“They said you weren’t writing anymore.” Mark makes himself known, stepping into the room. Ethan closes his journal and turns on the stool to see him. He looks exhausted. Sad. 

“I’m writing plenty..just not the type of music they want.” 

“It’s too bad. That was really nice. Much more relatable than songs about taking girls to the movies or whatever.” He steps further into the room, sort of wants to sit with him and listen forever. He has a killer voice. The kind of voice that’s almost wasted with the teenage pop he’s forced into. 

“Sad alternative isn’t quite the brand of Façade. I’m saving these for when I go solo.” 

“When’s that?”

“My contract has to be resigned in a year and 7 months to renew it for another five years. I’m not going to resign it.” He tries to muster a smile, but it is quite the wait. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks down to his hands, eyebrows furrowing. 

“How long have you been up?” 

“Woke up at three and couldn’t fall back asleep. Is it bad?” 

“It’s 7. We don’t have to leave for a few hours. You can sleep if you’d like.” Mark stands up and settles into the couch a few feet away, texting his mom an update. She’s been really interested in the job, thinks it makes him equally as famous for some reason. 

“My bed’s cold.” Ethan says, pulling his cardigan around himself with a frown. Mark watches as he steps up to the couch, picking up the thin blanket from the back of the couch, then he crawls onto the couch next to him. He looks expectant. Does he want a cuddle or something? The idea makes his heart warm. 

“Pretty warm right here.”

“You don’t mind?” 

“Didn’t take you for the type to ask permission.” Mark smiles, lifting an arm. Ethan cuddles up against his side, arm hugging his middle. He shivers, pulling the blanket up to his chin. It’s sweet. Mark definitely doesn’t mind it. 

“Nah, I always ask. Most polite person of all time.” Ethan mumbles, tilting his head up a bit as he gets comfortable, hair tickling at his neck. Mark reaches up to comb it out of the way, and the boy hums, pushing up into his hand like an actual cat. Mark smiles fondly and just continues to run his fingers through his soft hair. 

“Hope you don’t drool in your sleep.” He teases. Ethan’s arm over him loosens a bit, slipping down just a bit further. He’s pretty much out already. 

Knowing he’s asleep, Mark turns his head to rest on his, turning the tv down so it doesn’t wake him. He could sit like this for hours, which he just might. 

Theo texts about fifteen minutes in. Mark picks up the phone with his free hand, the other still in the boy’s hair. 

‘ _How’s the job going? Forgot to warn you before, you’ll need earplugs during shows_.’ Theo’s message follows with a laughing emoji. Mark rolls his eyes, though he knows it’s true. He didn’t think a stadium could get so loud, he can almost still hear the screams. 

‘Going good. For all the warning you gave me, he’s definitely not hard to work with.’

‘ _ Really? Took me months to get him to stop resisting my role.’  _

Mark frowns, hand moving from Ethan’s hair to his back, pulling him impossibly closer, as if he can protect him from whatever seemed to have happened in the past. 

‘Nah he’s great. We have a similar sense of humour so it’s not boring or anything. I don’t see why you had to warn me so much.’

He doesn’t receive a text for a few minutes, so he thinks Theo must’ve gotten busy, but the reply comes just before he can set his phone back down. 

‘ _Mark, you said you aren’t into men. If you let the kid seduce you someone’s gonna end up hurt in a big way_.’ 

‘Wtf are you on about? You know I’m straight, I’m just saying he’s easy to get along with. He flirty but he’s not trying to seduce anyone. If anything it’s probably just to cover his sadness.’

‘ _just be careful, you don’t know how good of an actor he can be_.’ 

‘So tell me then??’ 

Mark never gets a reply. He presses his lips together in annoyance and puts his phone down, turning his nose back to Ethan’s hair. So maybe he lied, he is quite well enjoying this cuddle session of theirs, but to be fair it doesn’t particularly mean he’s gay. 

Ethan stirs a bit in his sleep, burying his face further in his neck, hand tugging on his shirt like he’s not close enough, mumbling incoherently. 

Mark holds him tighter and doesn’t ponder too much on the sudden existence of his increased pulse. 

-

Ethan’s deathly silent as he sits in the backseat of the car. Mark keeps sneaking glances from the passenger seat, wanting to ask but not wanting to pry in front of their driver. 

The boy notices, forcing a small smile at him to answer his unspoken question. There’s definitely something up. He’s more down than usual. Maybe he had a bad dream during his nap? 

Mark doesn’t get to wonder for much longer when they pull up to a side entrance of a hotel and a tall blonde waits with a few men in suits. He steps out of the passenger seat and opens the backdoor for her. 

“You must be Kara. I’m Mark, filling in for Theo for the summer.” 

“Lovely to meet you.” She replies kindly, shaking his hand. When she’s sat in the backseat next to Ethan, he climbs back into the passenger, realising abruptly why the boy is extra sad today. 

“I take it we’re entering through the side entrance?” Mark asks the driver quietly. The man nods curtly. The side entrance is sort of jokingly called the “press entrance”. The small lot leading into garages for tour buses, surrounded by fencing that usually contains paps and fans hoping to catch just a glimpse of the stars entering. 

It’s exactly the entrance they’d use for a girlfriend sighting. 

When they arrive, there’s plenty people waiting, loads of cameras flashing just ten feet away as Mark steps out of the car and opens the backseat for the “couple”.

Ethan steps out, fingers tangled with Kara’s. He’s smiling as if nothing is wrong, and offers a seemingly happy wave to the people shouting his name, just hoping for a scoop. 

They reach the building and Mark holds the door for them, following inside. Their hands part as soon as the door slams closed behind them, and the three fall into a dastardly awkward silence. 

During soundcheck, Mark watches from backstage, and Kara steps up next to him midway through. 

“Did Theo get sick?” She asks, sipping at a coffee. 

“Oh, no he’s fine. He took the summer off so he can finally get married. Spend some time with the missus.” 

“You didn’t have plans?”

“I’m a teacher so I have summer’s off. Theo’s my cousin so I figured I’d help out.” 

“That’s nice of you. I appreciate your kindness despite mine and Ethan’s..situation. Theo was always a bit standoffish.” She smiles, all bright eyes and a row of perfect teeth. Undoubtedly she’s in the scene herself. Mark guesses she might be a model of sorts. 

“Was he? I never knew him to be anything but great.” 

“Oh..just a feeling, I think. I’m sure he’s cool.” She looks confused of all things, eyes moving to the stage. Mark copies the movement to see Ethan fiddling with his microphone, eyes glossy as he looks upon the rows and rows. He’s in his own little world, doesn’t seem to realise the two of them watching. 

“Sorry if I’m overstepping, but is he alright? It’s sort of my job to make sure he’s safe and half of the time I feel like he’s going to throw himself out of the car on a highway.” 

“Honestly? I don’t know. He’s gotten a lot more reserved since we first met. I assume it’s because of our contract. I think he’s losing patience for it.” Kara looks worried, herself. It’s a nice realisation, to know she isn’t just solely sticking around for the stunt, she also at least cares for Ethan. 

It takes him a moment to realise he doesn’t get the same feeling about most of the people surrounding them. The thought makes his heart ache. 

-

After the show, Ethan has to go out and have dinner at an expensive restaurant with Kara, sat at a table that’s clearly visible from the huge windows of the building. To keep the fact that’s it’s a stunt hidden, Mark watches from the parked car instead of inside with them. 

For the first time, he sees what Theo was talking about. Ethan is quite the actor, letting Kara taste things from his plate, smiling at her like he’s in love while she talks, touching her hand gently over the top of the table. The pap, paid to cover their stunt date, sits across the street with a huge lens and takes photos. With the windows open, Mark can just barely hear the clicking of the camera every minute or so. 

After their date, they step outside hand in hand and share a long kiss in front of the car. 

To any outsider, it just looks like a sweet couple saying goodbye at the end of the day. To Mark, he can see the things wrong now that he’s getting to know the boy. He sees his eyebrows furrowed a bit, his hands shaking when he reaches up to cup her cheek, the way he’s letting her lead like he’d honestly rather do anything else. These things would never show in photos. After the kiss, they part ways. Kara walks to her own driver, and Ethan climbs into the passenger seat. 

Mark pulls away from the restaurant and starts the drive to the boy’s house. It’s quiet, just a gentle jazz music Mark had playing on the radio to save the silence. Ethan stares out of the window with dead eyes. 

“Your meal looked good. Was that filet?” Mark tries to make conversation, desperate to distract him from his head. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Ethan mumbles, barely audible over the noises of the city. Mark slows his driving a bit so he can glance over more often, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” He replies, pulling onto the road Ethan lives on. 

“I’m tired of pretending. Nobody knows the real me. I just don’t want to do it anymore. I think..I think I might quit the band, just to get away from it.” 

Mark is shocked, to say the least. He pulls up into Ethan’s driveway and punches in the code, then parks in the garage. 

“What would Façade do? You’re the lead singer, you’re sold out for the whole tour.” 

“I know.” The boy whispers, arms crossed over himself like he’s just folding into a ball. 

Mark steps out of the car and walks over to the passenger, opening the door so the boy can exit. Ethan finally unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car, following him into the house. 

“Do you want some hot chocolate? Sorry I can’t offer more comfort—hey, you okay?” Mark stops in the foyer, looking back to see Ethan hasn’t moved to walk further into the house. He just stares at the floor. 

After a beat of silence, his hands come up to cover his face and he starts to cry. Mark sets the keys in the bowl and doubles back to him, placing a hand on his elbow. Ethan shakes terribly as he cries, stepping forward for a hug. Mark gives him exactly that, lowering down to circle his arms around the boy’s waist, holding him tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Ethan. I wish it were better.” He murmurs, rubbing a hand over his back. 

Ethan very slowly calms, pulling on his neck like he’s not close enough. Mark takes the initiative, lifting the boy up and walking him over to the living room, settling him on the couch. He pulls away, crouching down in front of him and using the throw blanket to wipe his tears best he can. 

“I haven’t been with a man in two years. Last time I snuck out to pull Theo upped my security and I haven’t been able to get away since then.” The boy says shakily, hand on his arm so he doesn’t get up. 

“You’d think he could set up something so you can have a bit of fun with the privacy of your hotel rooms.” Mark suggests. He finishes wiping Ethan’s tears and moves to stand up, but is stopped with the hand on his arm. 

Ethan leans forward from the back of the couch, hand flitting up to his cheek. Mark watches him, with his red rimmed eyes and sad tilt to his mouth, and can’t find it in him to back away even when he realises it’s going to happen. 

Their lips press together, and Mark very quickly realises that his silly crush has definitely moved past the stage of ‘just a crush’. 

He places a hand on his waist, the other on his thigh. Wants to pull him forward. Wants to lift up and press him down onto the couch and give him exactly what he’s been missing for two years. And yet, he hesitates. He could be fired for this. Worse, he could probably be sued. He’s sure there’s some fine print somewhere in that contract stating that he can’t engage with Ethan in a sexually physical way. 

He reaches up and stops their kiss with a hand to the boy’s jaw. Ethan’s fingers comb into his hair. His breathing is shuddery, like he can barely take it. There’s a bit of a desperate edge to it, like he might just fall apart if Mark doesn’t give him anything. 

“We can’t, Ethan. You know we can’t.” Mark mumbles, and yet he doesn’t back away. It’s like he’s glued to him, stomach swirling with want. 

“Please, just this once, and I’ll never try again.” Ethan’s grasping at straws, spreading his legs a bit so he can lean forward, touch him as much as possible. 

“I can get in big fucking trouble.” Mark tells himself more than anyone, dipping his head to spread kisses along the boy’s neck. Ethan lifts his chin to give him room, gasping like even the smallest touch sets him off. Maybe it does. God. 

“I won’t tell,” He promises, hands touching him everywhere he can reach, “I know you want to.” 

Mark lifts up onto the couch, then yanks Ethan by his knee pits so he’s on his back. The boy gasps in surprise, legs spreading so he can fit between them. He does, connecting their lips again. Like the devil and angel on his shoulders, he weighs the pros and cons to this decision. Knows, no matter what happens, that he won’t fully have sex with Ethan tonight. At least there’s that. Right? 

The boy reaches for his shirt, trying to unbutton it. Mark reaches for his hands, stopping him. 

“I can’t give you what you want.” Mark says, pulling away just a sliver. He’d probably do anything to keep kissing him. To be fair, it’s been a while since he himself spent time with someone in this context. 

“Please.” The boy whispers, laying back and meeting his eyes, pleading silently. Mark takes a deep breath, willing himself to stand up and walk away. To leave this temptation despite how badly they both want it. 

“My work contract ends in September. I can’t—I can’t—fuck, stop looking at me like that.” Mark closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together, hand still wandering despite it all. Ethan’s sort of just soft all over. As if he bathes in moisturiser or something. 

“Just kiss me.” 

“Ethan—“

“It’ll be enough. Kiss me, kiss me.” The boy lifts his chin, brushing their lips together. Mark can’t help himself, kissing the boy deeply, with everything he has. His little crush must’ve escalated a bit when he wasn’t looking, his heart absolutely pounding with every touch. He wants more. He wants it all, really. Maybe he’s just turned on, but he feels like he’ll never want anything else. He feels like he’s 18 again, laying with someone for the first time, fingers tingly with nerves and too many feelings at once. 

“Gotta..stop..” he mumbles between kisses. Ethan lifts his hips, pressing his crotch to Mark’s torso and making his hard on quite obvious. 

“Stop, then.” The boy replies, fingers dancing into his hair, pulling a bit like he just knows what he likes somehow. 

Mark separates their lips, sitting up and forcing himself away, leaning back against the opposite side of the couch. He catches his breath, watching the way Ethan presses his thighs together like he’s desperate for any minuscule sliver of friction. His lips are red, fingers at his waistband like he might just touch himself while they stare at each other. 

“Fuck, that can’t happen again.” Mark says, trying to be stern as he runs his hands through his hair, adjusting himself in his pants subtly. 

Clearly not subtle enough. Ethan chews on his lip, leaning up and raising an eyebrow. 

“Only it will. For now, I’ll find what I want somewhere else.” He moves to stand, but Mark stops him, hand on his wrist. 

“Somewhere else?” 

“Don’t piss yourself, I’m not leaving the house. Come help, if you’d like.” He grins mischievously, trailing his fingers up Mark’s arm as he stands up and leaves the room. 

After waiting in shock for ten minutes, he drags himself up and walks down the hall. He doesn’t intend to listen in, but when he walks in front of Ethan’s closed door and hears a whimper he stops, stock still in the middle of the hall. 

“F-fuck.” He hears the boy moan, then a wet sound. It takes Mark a comically long few seconds to realise he’s using the toy. The toy that he can vividly remember the shape of. He wonders if the boy is fully naked, if he’s on his back or his stomach. 

“God, yeah, Mark.” The boy moans, almost like he’s doing it on purpose. Does he know he’s being listened to? Or is he legitimately getting off picturing him? 

Mark has to leave, stiffly walking to the furthest bathroom, bracing himself on the wall behind the toilet, and pulling himself off until he comes with a gasp of a moan. He knows then that he’s fucked. Maybe he doesn’t love the kid, but he’s definitely terribly physically attracted to him. Almost detrimentally. 

It’s going to be a long ass summer. 

-

One thing that’s a constant, something he can always depend on no matter what changes between them, is Ethan’s need to be mischievous. 

For someone so sad, he sure can bouncearound the room and get on every crew member’s nerves as they work their way onto the jet for the flight to London. 

Maybe it was the toy he finally used last night, or maybe it was something else, but he’s all strung up like he’s just going to fucking explode. Mark has to learn how to wrangle him in, especially since it’s probably his job. 

He catches Ethan’s wrist on his fourth lap around the gate, stopping him from his path to wake up his makeup artist with a spook. It’s barely even 10AM. 

“Calm down.” He says, pulling the boy into the seat next to him. Ethan lets himself be manhandled, but only sits still for about five seconds before he’s shifting, as if there’s too much energy bubbling up in him and he has to get it out. 

“Can’t tell me what to do.” The boy says challengingly, moving to stand up and escape. Mark tightens his hold on Ethan’s wrist and pulls him right into his lap, arms around him so he can’t leave. 

“Calm.” He says darkly, fingers still looped around his wrist. Ethan wriggles a bit but eventually gives in, tilting his head onto Mark’s shoulder with a sigh. He’s still, finally. 

Mark looks up at the crew surrounding them, expecting to be given weird looks, but everyone just gives him smiles of relief. He rolls his eyes sheepishly at one of the boy’s band mates. Everyone here is much more accustomed to his antics. Probably aren’t used to them being tamed, if anything. 

“You have no right.” The boy complains, but isn’t trying to escape anymore. He touches his cold nose to Mark’s neck, relaxing against his chest like he might just have a nap. 

“Except I do, seeing as this is my job.” He replies, trying not to let himself smile. He doesn’t want it to look like he’s enjoying it to the others, especially since he’s definitely enjoying it more than he should. Ethan’s rather light weight on him just makes him want to pick him up and lay him on a bed, cuddle for hours. It’s a strange feeling, one that he hasn’t really experienced. 

Sure, there were girls he was with, and those few guys he experimented around with, but pretty much all of those experiences were physical. The closest he felt to actual feelings was Holly. He and Holly dated for a year and a half, before she broke it off, saying she “feels like it’s a one sided relationship”. 

Only now, years later, does Mark understand what she meant. He never enjoyed the more non-sexual things. The domestics. Cuddling on the couch, bringing someone a tea in the afternoon, pressing a kiss to their cheek as they pass in the kitchen. 

He wants those things with Ethan, and of course he only realises his crush has gone too far when the boy is sat on his lap. 

“Is a casual makeout session part of your job too?” Ethan asks in a whisper, his unrestrained hand casually touching Mark’s, rubbing sweetly over his knuckles. 

“My job is to keep you safe, Mr. Nestor.” Mark replies, not really answering the question, but it makes the boy giggle. He fights off his own smile, maintaining his neutral expression. The last thing he wants is for someone to think their relationship is anything but platonic. 

“I appreciate that, Mr. Fischbach.” Ethan replies, subtly pressing a kiss on his neck where he’s hiding. 

Mark can only hope the boy can’t feel his pulse skyrocket. 

-

“There’s a hell of a crowd waiting for us. Unfortunately there’s no way around it, we will have to go through the mob.” The tour manager Sam leans down to tell him, and explains the route through and out of the airport so he’s prepared. 

They start to descend, so everyone’s back in their seats. Mark, being the boy’s personal bodyguard, is sitting up in the upper cabin with the band itself. Since it’s a private jet, there’s plenty of leg room and with the long flight, plenty of time to sleep. 

Yet, Ethan was awake the whole time. Mark found himself looking up to find him probably too often. Despite sitting with the other three in the band, he doesn’t talk to them much. The musicians laugh and joke with each other, and Ethan sits slumped in his seat and watches whatever on his iPad, stuck in his own world. 

It’s strange, especially since he’s the lead singer, the heart of the group, so famous he needs a personal bodyguard to stay with him constantly, and yet he seems just sort of lonely. Before Mark had taken this job, he expected a rude partying sociable celebrity with an ego. 

Maybe it’s the circumstances of his contract, but Ethan just..isn’t. He isn’t anything like what was expected. 

Hazel eyes shift up as the plane shakes with the descent, meeting his like he just knew he was being watched. The boy offers a smile, seemingly not creeped out by the staring. Mark smiles in return, a bit embarrassed being caught, but not letting it show. 

They have a bit of a staring contest, and as the wheels skate onto the runway below them, Mark blinks, and Ethan claps with his victory. Mark flips him off, and unbuckles his belt, reaching above him for Ethan’s backpack that sits in the carry-on compartment. He steps up to the boy and helps him pack the iPad and headphones and what not into the bag, then he puts it on, escorting out of the plane like he’s supposed to. 

“There’s a crowd waiting. Straight to the car, okay? We don’t need you getting mobbed.” Mark informs him as they walk through the airport. It’s not the biggest building of all time, so they’re nearing the front in minutes. Thankfully, it’s one sided tinted, so they can see the crowd before the crowd can see them. 

“The press is here, now. I’ll take the front, you keep him moving.” Arin, one of their general security guards, says as he steps up the the doors. As soon as the doors open, the screaming is deafening. Airport security seemed to have placed down shitty little metal fencing, but the walkway to the car is quite thin, plenty of room for the people crowding each side to reach for them. 

Arin steps out, and Ethan holds the back of the man’s shirt. As soon as the boy steps out of the building, there’s flashes of cameras and voices shouting his name, asking for photos, autographs, statements, and everything in between. 

Mark puts a hand on the small of Ethan’s back and crowds behind him as close as possible, while his other hand does some attempted crowd control, keeping the desperately grabbing hands away from the boy’s face. 

It’s not the best attempt, especially when Ethan seems pretty adamant on letting the fans touch his hands, grinning like he knows he’s not supposed to but is doing it anyway. 

Even with the high stress of the crowd, they make it to the car without too much fuss. Ethan slides into the backseat, and Sam takes the passenger, so Mark follows in behind the boy, shutting the door as quickly as possible. Even with the door shut, the screaming is still loud as hell. Mark’s ears are ringing. 

“You need to keep with the system, we aren’t secure enough to handle a mob.” Mark chastised, buckling his seatbelt. Ethan doesn’t seem to even care, smiling with his head back against the seat. 

“They sit out there for hours just for a glimpse, I want to give every one of them a photo.” 

Mark can’t help his small smile. It can’t be allowed with a crowd as big as that, with the dangerously high chance of trampling, but Ethan’s humbleness warms his heart. London’s skies are a bit shitty, but Ethan’s content smile as he thinks about his admirers just makes the weather disappear. 

-

“I was thinking about that song you sung in New York.” Mark steps into the dressing room, not even batting an eye at Ethan’s bare chest as the boy changes into his show wear. It’s thirty minutes to places, and there’s people bustling all around in preparation. 

“From the new album? We still aren’t sure we want it in the setlist—“

“No, the one you sung that morning at the piano.” 

Ethan pauses, hand on his t shirt, cheeks just lightly flushing. 

“You weren’t meant to hear that.” 

“I know, but I really liked it. Just..follow me, two minutes.” Mark doesn’t even really finish asking before the boy pulls on his shirt and steps up to him, curious. 

He leads them to the small connecting makeup room with pretty vanities. Mark’s already gotten the room cleared so he knows they’ll be left alone. He sits at one of the vanities and picks up the guitar. 

“You play guitar?”

“Just a bit..I was thinking about the melody. Obviously, the song is depressing, but if you add a bit more it could be a little more subtle. Like..” he starts to strum the undertones he’s been thinking about, humming what he remembers Ethan playing, unable to really remember the words he’d sung so softly that morning. 

When he’s finished, he shrugs, suddenly unsure. Ethan’s eyebrows are furrowed. 

“So basically, ages from now when I go solo, you wanna help write the music?” Ethan asks teasingly, but he’s grinning all fondly. 

Mark sets the guitar aside, huffing a laugh. 

“I’m not even close to a musician, it’s just that song felt, I dunno..real? Like no offence, but your songs are just a bit..”

“Shitty pop for middle schoolers?” Ethan offers up. Mark shakes his head, not wanting to be rude. 

“I just mean, you’re the singer. Obviously you’re incredible on stage, but I can’t help but imagine how you’d be if you were allowed to be yourself. Not just the songs, either. Everything.” He stops talking with a frustrated sigh, wishing he could properly say what he wants to say without sounding like a tosser. Ethan looks down at his hands, lip between his teeth. 

“That breakdown I had, don’t take it too crazy seriously. I just get overwhelmed sometimes. Even though I’m not truly myself in the spotlight, I’m still having fun. I love to sing and I love the fans. I love to tour.”

“I didn’t mean to overstep—“

“I know how it feels to kiss you, I think we’re a bit past acquaintances.” Ethan smiles cockily. No matter how serious the conversation, he always manages to bring it back to this. The flirt. 

“I think it’s best we forget that happened.”

“Because you don’t want to again?” The boy asks, raising an eyebrow like he doesn’t believe it. He leans against the other vanity, arms crossing and making his tattoos warp with his arms twisting together. Mark watches with a swirly feeling in his stomach. 

“Because it  _can’t_ happen again.” He corrects, and stands up so they can go back to the dressing room before shit hits the fan again. 

“Hey, seriously though, thank you for the guitar thing. Those songs are..personal to me. I don’t really show them around, so I appreciate that you liked it.” Ethan steps up in front of him and touches his arm, eyes all soft and shit. Mark wants to kiss him again. 

“If we visit another piano I’d love to hear more.” He says honestly. 

“Stop before I start blushing.” 

“You’re already blushing.”

“Only because you can’t stop looking at my lips.” The boy darts out his tongue to lick said lips with his point. Mark immediately looks away and opens up the door next to them. 

“Show time, you cheeky fuck.” 

“Good luck kiss?” Ethan asks, hand skating down his arm to his wrist, touching at the wristband he gets for the tour. 

Mark smiles, moving to pull the boy through the door so he can head to the stage, but something makes him stop. Maybe it’s the stark lights of the vanities shining over Ethan, giving him a pretty angelic glow, or maybe Mark’s just a fucking goner already. Fast and never ending and so unexpectedly. He almost didn’t take this job. 

He tilts forward and presses a soft kiss to Ethan’s cheek, just near enough to his mouth that the younger’s breath hitches, fingers tightening on Mark’s wrist. Clearly, he wasn’t actually expecting a kiss. 

“Break a leg.” He murmurs while he’s there, and then someone’s calling for Ethan. It’s five minutes to places. They rush out of the room and Ethan’s cheeks don’t return to their normal colour until twenty minutes into the show. Mark watches from backstage, and finds it hard to wipe his smile away. 

-

For hotel stays, they have to share double queen rooms. Apparently, they used to just do connecting rooms for Ethan and Theo, until the boy snuck out in the middle of the night last tour, so now he has to share. 

By the time the shitty digital clock on the nightstand between them clicks over to one, Mark realises that Ethan’s just simply not going to sleep. With the curtains closed and all of the lights off, Ethan’s just a blur of a lump in the other bed. His breathing is steady, sure, but it’s not even. Not deep. He just seems to be laying there and doing nothing. It’s not even like he’s trying to fall asleep, since he’s not twisting for better positions or anything. 

Mark definitely lied down with the intention of falling asleep immediately, but once it got so quiet that he could hear the boy’s breathing, he found himself distracted. They’ve been silently laying for at least an hour. 

“Are you waiting for me to fall asleep so you can sneak out?” Mark asks in a quiet murmur, unable to keep silent anymore. He’s rather tired, to be fair. 

“No, I’m just restless. Am I keeping you awake?” The sheets rustle as he moves, and Mark guesses he turns to face the space between them. 

“Nah..but you have a big day tomorrow and you need sleep.” 

Ethan’s quiet for so long he thinks maybe the boy is finally trying to sleep, but then the bed creaks slightly and Mark opens his eyes in surprise when his blanket lifts. 

“What’re you doing—Ethan—“

“Chill out. This is totally platonic.” Ethan sighs, not touching him, just laying next to him. 

“Not sure how this will make you more tired.” Mark replies, huffing a panicked laugh as the boy scoots incrementally closer. 

“You make me feel calm.” Ethan admits in such a small voice that he’s nearly inaudible. Mark takes a shaky breath, wondering if maybe it’s the darkness making him sweet like this. Maybe it’s the late hour. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. 

“So you can sleep, then?” He asks, trying not to say anything that might lead to something happening. Such as Ethan reaching for him blindly, hand falling onto his bare chest. It happens anyway, though. 

“Your heart’s beating really fast.” 

Mark curls his hand into a fist, physically having to stop himself from rolling on top of the boy and kissing him until they both can’t breathe. 

“Please..don’t.” Mark whispers, as Ethan’s hand drifts up, touching softly at his shoulder, his cheek, then twisting a tuft of his hair at the back of his neck. 

“I won’t unless you ask me to.” The boy whispers his promise, but doesn’t stop touching him. 

They fall asleep like that, inches away, desperate for each other but neither taking that step again. 

-

They continue to share a bed, after that night in London. As they travel through England, then Ireland, they share in every hotel they stay in, despite continuing to purchase the rooms with two. Norway, France, Germany, Italy. The shows blend together, the screaming fans becomes somehow a normal thing. They get closer and closer as they become more comfortable with each other. 

It comes to a head in Australia. 

Ethan’s always bouncier after a show, hyped up with energy. With the VIP meeting having been prior to the show tonight, there’s nowhere for him to place that energy now. Naturally, he turns to everyone in the room with it. 

A month and a half into this job, Mark’s just sort of used to having to rein the boy in, pull him away from the neatly placed makeup bags before its fussed with. 

“One day someone’s going to turn feral and kill you.” Mark laughs as he leads Ethan away from the crew that’s desperately trying to pack up. 

“I’ll fight ‘em all, bitch.” Ethan giggles, all shiny eyes and shaky hands. 

“Of course, how about we go have a dance instead, okay?” Thankfully this arena doesn’t only have one exit, so they can slip out of the back without any mobs or death threats. 

“God, I love Melbourne. I haven’t been here in two years.” Ethan sighs happily in the car, staring out of the window as they travel to the club. Mark can’t help but smile, sharing a mutual look with the driver, who also seems to be endeared by Ethan’s sunshine. To be fair, he’s not always so bubbly. It’s sort of sad, that him being happy is an occasion to celebrate, rather than the default. 

Mark doesn’t dwell on it too long so he doesn’t get sad himself, and they arrive to the dark building in the middle of Ethan’s rant about why sporks are clearly superior to every other utensil. 

It’s a high end place, so there’s not too much worry about fans or paps ruining anything. Within a minute, Ethan’s downed a vodka tonic and dances like a loon in the crowd. Mark sits at the bar, sipping at a water and watching. He stares because it’s his job, no other reason whatsoever. 

Definitely no other reason, because Ethan’s silly dancing definitely is  _not_ adorable. His smile as he just blatantly enjoys himself is  _not_ making Mark’s heart do a flip. Most of all, Mark does  _not_ want to pull him into the toilets and taste the alcohol on his tongue. 

Except he does. Really fucking badly. 

Ethan’s laughing giddily when he comes back to the bar for a second drink. 

“Don’t get too pissed, you have a show tomorrow night.” Mark reminds him, watching the boy’s throat work as he throws back his drink. 

“Come dance with me!” He says, just a tad too loud even with the music bumping through the club. He takes Mark’s hands, pulling him up. 

“I—I dunno—“ his attempt at resisting is pathetic, and Ethan probably doesn’t even hear him. Sure, he could easily pull them back to the bar with minimal effort, but he’s a bit dazzled by a happy boy, so it’s whatever. 

Besides, it’s just dancing!

Ethan gets steadily more handsy as his second drink hits him, and Mark is sort of having too much fun to care as the boy dances up against him. Mark hasn’t had any alcohol, of course, but he feels a sort of secondhand high from the energy surrounding them. 

“Mark, I love this song!” The boy laughs freely, dancing getting more fluid and more careless as he relaxes. Mark doesn’t even know what fucking song is playing, he just knows that he might be a little in love. 

“I can tell!” Mark replies, leaning in so he can be heard over the loud music, but Ethan takes that opportunity to wrap his arms around his neck, and then their dancing is quite suddenly more intimate. Less jumping around, more smiling stupidly at each other. 

The song is a lot more upbeat than their pace, but Ethan keeps tugging on the collar of his shirt like he wants even closer. As if it’s possible with them nearly touching heat to toe. 

“I want you to take me home.” Ethan says, eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks with the dark lights above them. He’s prettier than anything else in this world. 

“Home as in the hotel room?” Mark asks with a laugh. The boy nods, pushing at his shoulders until he turns and leads them away from the crowd of bodies and out into the rather nice cool air of the city. 

“Isn’t it meant to be summer?” Ethan complains as they wait for the cabbie, arms crossed and pouting adorably. 

“Southern Hemisphere, remember?” Mark teases, opening the door for him when the car arrives. Ethan nearly stumbles in. His just barely tipsy enough that he’s a bit more clumsy than usual. It’s annoyingly sweet. Mark rather likes holding his elbow to steady him, or keeping a hand on his hip so he doesn’t wander off. 

Just touching him, really. He aches for it. 

In the car, Ethan lies his head on his shoulder with a happy little sigh. Mark smiles and watches the lights flash by the windows as they drive. It’s not the longest drive in the world, even with the traffic, so they pull up to the hotel soon enough. 

“Mark..do you want to sleep in Sam’s tonight?” Ethan randomly asks in the elevator of the hotel, steadily rising up to their floor. Mark shakes his head, almost not even replying to what is clearly a joke. 

“Definitely not.” He says, glancing over to find Ethan leaning against the wall of the elevator, looking like he’s pleading. Wait, he’s serious?

“Wait, you’re serious?” Mark voices his thoughts. Ethan shifts his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking almost nervous. 

“Please, Mark.” 

“So you can sneak off?” 

“No! No..I just..never mind.” His cheeks flush as they reach their floor and step into their room. Ethan doesn’t even change out of his clothes, he just flops down onto the furthest bed. It’s strange, since they usually share the one closest to the door. 

“We don’t have to sleep together, Ethan. There’s two beds for a reason.” He says, stepping up behind the boy and pulling his shoes off. 

“That’s not..ugh.” Ethan doesn’t explain himself. He just flips over, fumbling uselessly with his belt buckle so he can go to sleep comfortably. Mark chuckles and reaches down to help him, unbuckling his pants, and very abruptly realises why Ethan wants to be alone. 

“Oh I see, you need to get off.” Mark could laugh. He does, actually, stepping back and sitting on the opposite bed as he clutches his stomach with laughter. 

“Fuck off, we’ve been sharing a bed for almost two months, you think I have time for casual wanks?” 

“Go ahead, then. I’m going to sleep, anyway.” Mark shoves his own jeans off and crawls into the other bed, even turning his back to Ethan so he knows he won’t be watched. 

“You want me to fuck myself with you in the room?” 

He’s glad he’s turned, because he doesn’t think he can afford Ethan seeing the look on his face right now. 

“Have at it, I’m basically asleep already.” He mumbles, and he  _is_ quite tired. 

For a while, there’s not really any notable noises, just the sheets rustling as Ethan crawls in, but he shuts out all noise and wills himself to sleep. 

Ten minutes later, he lies wide awake as the boy finally makes a sound. 

He seemed to have been trying really hard to stay quiet, because the whimper he hears is muffled, like he’s covering his mouth. Or, Mark thinks darkly, what if he’s wearing a gag? He knows that’s not what’s happening, but the thought drives him crazy. 

Now that he’s listening, he can’t help but pick up on a different noise. Just the slightest bit of wet noise. Did he lube up his hand? 

Another agonisingly long ten minutes pass, with just wet sounds and Ethan’s muffled noises, before Mark gives in and turns to try and see through the dark. It’s nearly pitch black, but with the very slight light from the alarm clock, Mark can see the boy is on his stomach, completely under the duvet which moves as his hand works behind himself. 

He then realises Ethan’s not pulling himself off, he’s fucking himself with either his fingers or the dildo he bought. 

“Thought you were gonna sleep?” Ethan breaks the thick silence, still keeping his steady pace. 

“Hard to when you’re taking so fucking long.” Mark sighs, then lies onto his back and listens for a few more minutes to Ethan’s frustrated little whimpers, not muffled anymore now that he’s turned his head. 

Mark’s really damn tired, and would much like to sleep soon, especially since they’re moving on to Sydney tomorrow. 

That’s his excuse as he throws the cover from himself and steps up behind Ethan, pulling the duvet away, eyes adjusting and easier to see now that he’s closer. 

“Mark? What’re you—Mark!” Ethan squeaks in surprise when his hips are lifted, so he’s on his knees, arse in the air, rather than flat on his stomach. The toy sits deep inside the boy, who’s let go of it and grabbed the sheets in surprise. 

Mark takes a hold of the dildo’s base, and adjusts the fucked angle so it’ll actually hit his prostate, and pulls it out a bit, before slamming it back in. 

The reaction is instantaneous. Ethan’s confused panic melts away as he moans, back arching so he’s fully on display. Despite how dark it is, Mark can definitely see how the boy clenches around the toy every-time he thrusts it back in, like he never wants it to leave. 

“Fuck, Mark.” Ethan gasps his name, pressing back desperately. He sounds so damn sinful. Mark’s already hard in his own briefs, and can’t help but place a hand on Ethan’s hip as he gets him off, feeling his soft skin. God. His noises get more stuttery like he’s close. 

“Go ‘head.” Mark says, nearly in awe at how beautiful this is. Ethan just letting himself go like this. All for him. 

“No..want you, please.” The boy begs, arm reaching out for him, trying to pull him closer, asking to be fucked. Mark’s breath hitches and he quickens his pace, trying to get Ethan to come before he gives in. 

“That’s it, baby.” He spreads his fingers over the small of Ethan’s back as the boy comes, pressing his thumb to the dimple at the bottom of his spine. He’s so pretty, toes curling and mouth open against the pillow. Fuck. 

Mark pulls the dildo out of him and tosses it onto the towel Ethan had placed before he started, then with a sigh he climbs back into his own bed, adjusting himself before he does. Now that the boy is satisfied, Mark finally feels the exhaustion hit him, and he closes his eyes, not even caring about the noises of Ethan cleaning himself up behind him. 

He’s nearly asleep when the blanket lifts and the boy crawls in with him, lifting his arm and fitting himself right under his chin, cocooned together. 

“Thank you.” Ethan murmurs, tangling their legs together. Despite sleeping in the same bed for over a month, they haven’t exactly cuddled. It’s scarily comfortable. 

“Mmhm.” Mark hums, too tired to even open his mouth. He falls asleep with Ethan in his arms, and his sleep-riddled brain decides he never wants to fall asleep any other way for the rest of his life. 

They don’t talk about it, but the whole next day Ethan’s all soft and cuddly. He’s sweet to everyone, taking time to sign personalised autographs for fans, helping the crew out, touching Mark’s knuckles in the back of the car as they ride to the show, smiling like the sun. 

It’s almost like Mark touching him made him happy, but he doesn’t want to be hopeful. 

-

The next time he gives in is the first night in Tokyo, two weeks after the  _Melbourne Dildo Incident_. It’s their second night in Tokyo, with the next day being a rare freebie so everyone can enjoy the city. 

Mark and Ethan lounge around the hotel room, a huge ass extremely nice penthouse on the millionth floor, and Mark decides now is a good time to give Ethan a little gift. 

“Hey, so we have tomorrow off, I was thinking you might like to..here, lemme just show you.” He fumbles around in his trunk until he finds the little pink bag he’s had stashed since Cannes. 

“For me?” Ethan asks in a cute baby voice, jumping up from where he was signing albums for the next fan meet. He climbs onto the bed and sits on his knees adorably. Mark hands him the bag, and watches as he reaches in and pulls out the nail varnish. 

It’s a rather simple one, just a dark blue, nearly black, but Ethan’s breath catches. He looks up to Mark with wide eyes. 

“We’re painting my nails?” 

“I know you said you never are allowed to, but we have tomorrow off. Pop on a hat and sunnies and maybe you can wear it for a whole day. I even got acetone if you don’t like it. I don’t know if you were just saying it as a joke—“

“No, no, it’s perfect. Thank you. Can you do it for me?” His cheeks are flushed, eyes all sparkly as he rolls the varnish in his hands. 

“My hands aren’t the most steady..”

“I guarantee they’re steadier than mine.”The boy pokes out his bottom lip in an exaggerated puppy dog face, and Mark takes the bottle from him before he just fucking kisses him. He’s convinced Ethan does cute shit on purpose just to tease him. 

“Alright, chill out.” He takes Ethan’s wrist and places it on his own thigh, shaking the small bottle before he starts on painting them. His mom has done it to him on a few occasions, so he sort of knows what he’s doing. Ethan watches the tv for a bit, but eventually just seems more interested in the process, watching as the colour fills his nails. 

It’s quite pretty, even though it’s not perfectly done. As soon as one hand is done, the boy holds it out in front of him, grinning all happily. He splays his fingers over his bare thigh just past his shorts, the dark blue a stark contrast to the pale white of his skin. Mark thinks about kissing him there. Biting him a bit, maybe. He swallows thickly and continues onto Ethan’s other hand as to distract himself. 

It doesn’t work. As he paints the varnish on, Ethan wriggles his fingers around and admires them. Mark can’t stop glancing at him, at the smile that’s yet to leave his face. Happy Ethan is quite the sight for sore eyes. He wants to see him happy all the time. Forever. Not another tear for the rest of his life. 

When he’s finished, Ethan holds the nails up to his face and blows air onto them to speed up the drying. Mark screws the top back onto the bottle and sets it aside, leaning back on the heels of his hands just to watch. He’s so pretty. 

“Pretty.” He comments, not just talking about the nails, but nobody needs to know that. 

“Isn’t it? This is the best gift ever, thank you.” He laughs gleefully and twists a bit so he can cuddle up to Mark’s neck like a hug without hands, not wanting to ruin his wet nails. 

“If this is your best gift I might start to cry. It’s just a cheap bottle of—“

“Theo kissed me.” 

“What?” He swears his heart stops. Ethan looks down at his nails, eyebrows furrowed. 

“We were pretty strictly professional, Theo and I. He was very adamant about the rules, even when we were alone. He wouldn’t let me get off, watch porn, or anything that could even hint at something gay. I heard him one day telling our stylist Kim that he’s uncomfortable sharing a room with me because he thinks I flirt with him and want him.”

“You flirt with everyone.” 

“Exactly. So I confronted him. He kissed me and I pushed him away and freaked out. He kind of looked just as surprised as I did and the next day I was told you were replacing him.” Ethan chews on his lip, touching gently at his nails to see if they’re dry. They are. 

“I don’t get it. Why would he do that?” 

“I think he’s closeted, like  _really_ closeted. The sort of kind that doesn’t come out until he’s 20 years into a marriage with four kids kind of closeted.” Ethan looks sad about it, empathetic despite Theo being so strict with him. 

“I mean, we aren’t the closest people in the world, I suppose you’d know better than I would,” Mark supplies, “but why did you wait so long to tell me?” 

“I didn’t want you to think my feelings for you had anything to do with him.” 

_Feelings_. It’s a big word, in every way but spelling. Mark watches Ethan shift closer to him, and he doesn’t pull away. The boy places his hand on his leg, his nails dark against the grey of his joggers. Mark wants to see those painted fingers touching himself.

“You said you won’t kiss me unless I asked.” Mark reminds him, panicking a bit as Ethan touches at the buttons of his shirt like he might just start undoing them. 

“So ask.” The boy requests sweetly, then tips forward, brushing their noses together like a butterfly kiss. Mark keeps his hands leaned behind himself, fisted in the sheets so he can’t give in. Resisting. 

“Ethan,” he complains, breathing stuttering as he closes his eyes anyway, “this job ends in like a month.” 

“I can’t wait that long. Want you now.” Ethan mumbles, ducking his head a bit to drag his lips up his jaw, technically not a kiss. Technically. 

“Your toy is in your case.” 

“Don’t want that, just want a kiss.” The younger pops his top button, dark blue nails drifting over his slowly exposed chest. He’s teasing, nearly seducing him. Mark’s fucking weak. 

He flips them the other way, presses Ethan down to the bed by his arms. The boy  _keens_ like it turns him on to be manhandled. Maybe it does. 

“Stop seducing me, you fucking minx.” Mark says in a rasp, heart slamming in his chest at how wriggly Ethan is under him, legs spread to fit him like he’s just ready for anything. 

“It’s not seducing when you already want it.” The boy grins, glancing down between them. Mark doesn’t need to follow his eyes to know what he’s looking at. He can feel it pressing up against his zipper. 

He hasn’t gotten off anywhere but in the shower for two months. 

“Fuck off.” He says, squeezing Ethan’s wrists tighter and watching how it makes his cheeks pink. God. Though he won’t admit it, he does want it. He wants it so bad he’s started dreaming about it. Especially after having ‘helped him along’ in Melbourne, he knows first hand what it would look like. Knows what Ethan sounds like when he comes. Can only imagine what it feels like. 

“Are you genuinely afraid we’ll be caught or do you get off on the anticipation?” Ethan tilts his head, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. 

“I could get in some deep shit if we’re caught.”

“Why do you think we’d be caught?”

“Because,” Mark takes a breath, removing one of his hands to press his thumb to Ethan’s wet lips, “because I wouldn’t be able to hide it if we started. I’d want you all the time, everywhere. I’m shit at hiding things like this. All it would take is one pap photo of me looking at you and it’d all be over.” 

“Cause you’re in love with me?” The boy teases, but it’s weak. His eyes are shiny, breathing a bit laboured as he’s charmed. 

“Don’t touch me again unless you want me to be.” 

“I do want it—“

“This is too big of a conversation right now.” Mark loosens his hands on the boy, moving away. Ethan reaches out to pull him back, eyes wide. 

“P-please,” he begs, “I know I joke around a lot, but surely you’ve noticed how much you affect me. I feel better, like I don’t feel so shit every day. You make me laugh.” 

Mark remembers something Kara told him in Italy. That when she and Ethan are going on “dates”, he mentions him. That he’s smiling more. She’d thanked him for taking the job. At the time, Mark had laughed it off, saying he and Ethan hardly spend time with each other, making up something about a new vitamin he started taking. 

But there’s no new vitamin. It’s just Mark. 

“You make me laugh too.” He murmurs, and lets Ethan tangle their fingers together. Lets himself be pulled in close. Lets the boy’s free hand cup his cheek. 

“Ask me.” Ethan whispers again. 

“Kiss me, baby.” Mark whispers just as quietly, eyes slipping closed as he does just that. 

He’s gone, then, nearly in tears as he lets his walls fall away and savours every moment that he knows he’s going to wish he hadn’t let happen tomorrow. Slides his hand under Ethan’s shirt and cups his small hip, feeling the soft skin there. He never wants it to end. He’s never felt so frazzled by someone before, especially not by some chaotic popstar with random tattoos that don’t have meaning. 

He touches Ethan’s chin and forces himself to separate them, but can’t make himself open his eyes. Doesn’t want to see the effect of their kiss on the boy, because he knows he’ll just lean back in. 

“Mark.” The boy says in the sweetest voice, and touches his closed eyelid, asking him to open his eyes. 

“Don’t..” Mark chokes, his other senses heightened with his eyes closed. Ethan’s soft skin under his hands, his expensive perfume lulling him in, his voice saying his name as if no other word in the English language means as much. 

“Open your eyes,” that voice pleads, fingers tangling in his hair to push it away so it’s not hanging over his forehead, and Mark can’t resist, opening his eyes, “one more month, yeah?” 

Ethan’s lips are just as kissed-pink as expected, eyes just as pretty, but he almost looks sad. Like he’s accepting that they can’t do anything more. 

“And a bit.” Mark says painfully. September 13th might as well be another half month, but it’s technically not. He remembers that, focusing on that.

“Yes, and after that bit we can do whatever we want—“

“Not exactly. We could never be out, we could never confirm any rumours, not for like 20 years or some shit. 2040.” 

“Sure, if I stay with this company and not dump their asses in a year and a half.” Ethan reminds him, smiling like he’s optimistic. It’s contagious. Mark smiles sadly, wanting to kiss him again. Make his smile happy instead. He’d nearly forgotten about Ethan’s plan to leave the company. 

“What about at the end of this summer when you finally get my kit off and realise you didn’t want it in the first place?” Mark attempts to lighten the mood. The boy giggles, hand trailing down his chest and tickling at his thigh, like he might just grope him. Mark’s so frazzled that he probably wouldn’t even resist. 

“Your loose joggers don’t leave much to the imagination. I doubt I’ll be disappointed.” 

Mark huffs a laugh, wondering how Ethan can say things so boldly like that. Maybe it’s the result of years in front of cameras. He has to roll away from him, cover his eyes with his arms. 

“Fuck, we should probably sleep in separate beds until then.” 

“Because of the kiss? Eh, small price to pay.” Ethan laughs, and the bed shifts as the boy sneaks just another one, right on his cheek, before he’s climbing off and prancing to the toilet. Mark lifts his arm and watches him go, unable to wipe the stupid grin from his face. 

That night, Mark twists and turns for about an hour before he sighs deeply and throws the duvet off of himself, then climbs into Ethan’s bed, wrapping all of his limbs around the boy, spooning him from behind. 

“Figured.” Ethan mumbles sleepily, snuggling back into his chest, fingers touching his. 

“Piss off.” Mark replies in the same quiet tone, smiling into Ethan’s hair. The boy exhales a laugh before falling asleep in about two second. 

Embarrassingly, Mark finds he legitimately can’t fall asleep without Ethan anymore. It might be a problem. Right now, he just simply doesn’t care, breathing evening out as he holds his boy close. 

-

They get back to the states in mid-August, and yet the tour isn’t quite over. The american leg is meant to be the biggest showout, travelling all around the country and ending back where they started in LA. 

Seattle is beautiful when they touch back in American soil. It’s almost strange to recognise where they are after months of new and interesting foreign sights. The different places they visited for the summer were incredible, humbling. Probably, anyway. 

Mark finds it hard to look out and see the world when Ethan’s in his sights. Which is always. 

“Too obvious.” The boy huffs under his breath, kicking him subtly. Mark looks away, wiping his stupid soft smile from his face, looking at the camera with probably a guilty expression. He can only hope they won’t post the footage anywhere. He can’t help the audience, though, all looking to the lead singer with wide eyes. 

“And now for our guests of honour, Façade!” Jim Cameron of the Late Show calls, and then Ethan is stepping up onto the stage with his bandmates. Mark stands backstage and watches the crowd for any weird movements. His job, after all. He can be distracted by Ethan for hours, probably, but he knows what he’s here for. He knows what he’s meant to do. 

Still, that sweet voice catches his ears every time. 

“Thanks, Jim. Yeah, I keep getting told that!” Ethan laughs up on the stage, eyes more green in the bright ass lights on them. 

“And is there any specific reason the fans have noticed you seem to be more upbeat? Any certain someone causing that?” 

Ethan, the cheeky fucker, looks right up to him, eyes meeting his past all of the space between them. His smile only deepens. 

“Yeah, I suppose there is someone who’s really making me happy lately.” He says, still looking right at him. Surely he can’t fully see him with the stage lights, but it’s doesn’t seem to matter. Mark tries his hardest not to grin like a loon, heart fluttering like a schoolgirl. 

“Ooh, I think we all know who that could be!” Jim laughs, and Ethan’s eyes flicker to the left, away from him. Mark follows his eyes, finding one of the management team members making a signal with her hand subtly, in a way that the audience can’t see but they can. 

Ethan maintains his smile, but he folds his hands together in his lap, knuckles white. 

“Of course, my girlfriend Kara. She’s truly amazing.” The boy says, voice not quite as sweet anymore. To anyone who hasn’t spent all hours of the day with him, his discomfort isn’t noticeable. 

To Mark, his heart aches for him. Having to lie like that. 

Just to hit the nail in the coffin, the huge screen behind the boys lights up with a photo of the “couple”, walking hand in hand in Spain. If the photo were taken at a different angle, it would show Mark walking behind them. Ethan wrote a lot in his journal that night after that stunt. He’s always quiet after his showings with Kara. Always sad for a while. 

“That’s lovely, Ethan. You’ve been together for a few years now, right? Any big announcements planned soon? Ring announcements, maybe?” Everyone laughs. Ethan looks to his lap with a pained smile, then he looks up to Mark again, and his smile fades into real again, like he’s finding his strength through him. 

Mark tries not to be too obvious with his encouraging smile. He can only hope Ethan can see it past the lights. 

“Don’t think I wanna say in case she watches this, Jim. It’s not off the table, though.” As if he’s genuinely thinking about it, the boy pinches at his ring finger in his lap, probably not even realising he’s doing it. 

Management looks like they’re about to throw a parade, grinning at how well Ethan is playing the role. It is quite the act. 

Unless it’s not an act. They’ve kissed a few times, surely Ethan’s not suggesting what it sounds like, right? 

Mark has to look away from him, breath coming out in a shake, looking back to the audience. Rings. It’s a big thing. He can’t help but imagine it, though. A pretty shiny ring on Ethan’s finger. One that Mark put there. 

He’s absolutely fucking gone and he kind of just doesn’t care. 

-

“Can’t talk about rings at me, gonna get us caught.” Mark says as soon as they’re alone in the room. Ethan smiles shyly, setting down the pizza box they got and reaching for him. 

Mark meets him halfway, hand on his waist, heart on his sleeve. 

“Too soon?” The boy asks, circling his arms around Mark’s neck, swaying them back and forth with a smile. 

“Way too fucking soon.” 

“Mmm, is tonight another cheat night?”

“Cheat night?” Mark repeats dazedly, finding it hard to look away from Ethan’s mouth when they’re this close together. 

“Yeah you know, where you resist for a few minutes before kissing me and immediately regretting it, then you try to stay away for about thirty minutes before you go back to touching me every chance you get?” 

“I don’t regret it.” 

Ethan touches the hair that falls over the back of his neck, leaning in to kiss his jaw once, like a hello. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Maybe.”

“Gonna start resisting then?” His mischievous lips trail up from his jaw, onto his cheek. 

“Not tonight.” Mark replies, then nudges his nose at Ethan’s cheek. When the boy leans back, he kisses him immediately, heart soaring. 

Whether it’s the ring talk, or the way Ethan looks at him, or maybe just the fact that as time goes on it gets harder to hide, Mark has no hesitation as he walks them over to the bed, spreading Ethan over it gently, never disconnecting their lips as he hikes one of his legs up and presses them together everywhere possible. 

His reasons for stopping aren’t quite enough tonight. His brain is just a loop of  _EthanEthanEthan_ and he can’t stop, he just can’t. He wants him, right fucking now. Doesn’t care about the consequences if they get caught. 

“Fuck, stop doing that unless you plan to fix it.” Ethan pulls back to whine, hand reaching down to touch at his hips. Mark continues to grind their clothed crotches together. Wants to get him hard. 

“I intend to.” He says, watching how that affects the boy, mouth parting a bit, eyes wide. 

“Why are you giving in now? After all this time?” 

“Dunno. Just can’t resist anymore.” He wants to admit he’s not strong enough, that every time they so much as brush hands he thinks about touching him more. That he might just have some really fucking strong feelings now, that his crush isn’t quite a crush anymore. 

“Is it because of the marriage shit I said?” Ethan asks, cheeks pinking a bit. Mark leans in to kiss him there, feel the heat of his blush. 

“Might be a factor.” 

“There’s a reason we’re waiting until September 13th. I don’t think you’re thinking straight right now.” 

Mark smiles against his cheek, finding the sentence funny. He definitely  _isn’t_ thinking straight, that’s for sure. It seems the boy needs some convincing, so he kisses him again, coaxing his mouth open so he can slip his tongue in. The boy makes a sound, hand on his hip sliding down like he might just unbuckle their pants. 

Mark hooks a hand under Ethan’s knee and grinds down again with this new angle. The boy moans in his mouth, then immediately starts to unbutton Mark’s jeans, desperate to touch him. 

He helps the boy out, shoving his jeans off, just as fucking desperate. 

Ethan palms him over his briefs, and Mark groans, pushing into his hand like a teenager. He then helps Ethan out of his own pants, lips separating so he can throw the clothes into oblivion. When he grinds down this time, it’s skin to skin. 

“God, please.” Ethan gasps, eyelashes fluttering in the prettiest way. 

“Tell me what you want.” Mark would give him anything right now. Everything, probably. Somewhere in his brain he remembers that he probably shouldn’t go all the way tonight. Not on an impulse in a Seattle hotel. He wants to save it for something special. Still, if Ethan asked, he would. 

“Touch me, I can’t—“ his begging cuts into a high moan when Mark wraps a spit-wet hand around him, starting to pull him off immediately. He wants to see the boy come because of him again. Only this time, he gets to see his face. Gets to see exactly how much he can do to him. 

“Fuck.” Ethan whimpers, fighting to keep his eyes open to watch him but they keep slipping closed in pleasure. Mark continues to grind onto him, getting himself off with the friction of his cock against Ethan’s thigh. It’s obscene. 

“Is it good?” He asks breathlessly, squeezing him a bit tighter. The boy moans for an answer, one hand gripping the sheets like he might just fucking fly away. Mark wants to taste him, so he does, looming over him and continuing his movements as he bites at his collarbone, wants to make a mark. 

Ethan’s hand slides into his hair immediately, getting caught in a tangle and yanking it a bit painfully. 

Mark’s hips stutter as he comes, mouth open against the boy’s chest. He looks down at the mess he’s made on Ethan’s stomach. Wants to make it messier. 

“You look so good right now, baby, so lovely.” He watches in awe as Ethan’s expression breaks, back arching as he comes, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slacked. It’s quite the sight. So worth it. 

They kiss lazily for a few minutes, then share a shower, during which Mark can’t keep his hands to himself, pressing kisses to every tattoo and every curve. He kind of wants to do this forever. Appreciate the boy. Make him smile all the time. 

“We’re fucked. I give it a day before the rumours start.” Ethan laughs while they wash each other’s hair. Mark grins, tipping the boy’s head back to rise the shampoo. 

“I don’t even care.” He replies, using Ethan’s exposed neck to press a kiss there. 

Truly, he just doesn’t care anymore. Something that feels this good will be nearly impossible to hide. September 13th, he remembers. So close yet so far. 

-

It happens the very next day. 

It was a late show, so they don’t get out of the arena until a little after midnight. Ethan’s used all of his energy for the show and the VIP meet right after, so he’s all clingy hands and sleepy blinks as they walk towards the exit where the car waits. They can both already hear the noise of the fans, waiting at the door, hoping for anything at all. 

“You up for some photos? Sam says the crowd isn’t too huge.” Mark very definitely platonically sets a hand on Ethan’s back, guiding him to the doors. He’s really cute when he’s sleepy. 

“I’m always up to meet fans.” The boy replies, so they do, stepping out into the walkway where a crowd erupts into shouts, begging for photos and autographs. Thankfully, they don’t try to mob them, keeping a respectful distance. 

Ethan chats with fans and takes photos, signing autographs, giving out hugs. It’s really nice. He’s so sweet to the people who support him. It’s something Mark really loves about him. 

Before he can get surprised at himself for that thought, he sees a man in a hoodie shoving through the crowd, eyes right on Ethan. 

Mark sees the shiny gun in his hand and is moving before he even comprehends what’s happening. He shoves his way between Ethan and the guy, probably knocking the fan he was talking to over, and he reaches out to grab the guy’s arm as he lifts the weapon. 

The gunshot is so loud that Mark can’t even hear the screams of bloody murder that follow. Hands full of the guy’s arm, he can only pull his head back and slam his head into the man’s nose. It’s absolute chaos, then, and other security rushes in and takes the man from him. Immediately, Mark turns to see Ethan is being shielded by a few brave fans. He reaches for him, and the boy pushes through the people and lets himself be yanked away. 

He pushes the boy into the car, only looking over his shoulder to make sure the shooter is being restrained. He is, with about four security guards holding him down. People run all over the place, scurrying away or recording on their phones. The ringing in his ears subsides just enough to be able to actually hear noises. There’s screaming and a car alarm going off and people shouting over each other. 

Mark slams the door closed and the driver takes off. He turns to Ethan, checking him for injuries, hands shaking with adrenaline. 

“Are you okay? Are you okay?” He asks over and over, finding a scrape on the boy’s heel of his hand. He must’ve fallen over when Mark stood in front of him.

“Hospital, please! Please hurry!” Ethan cries to the driver, hand leaving Mark’s and pressing to his shoulder where his right one already was. 

Mark looks down to see the blood oozing between the boy’s fingers. He wants to lift the hands to see how he got hurt. 

“Fuck, I didn’t notice.” He says dazedly, adrenaline not quite enough to stop the sudden rush of vertigo as he realises where that bullet went. 

“Didn’t realise you’ve been shot?! Fucking shit, Mark, why did you do that? Why did you step in front of him?” His words are angry, but his voice is shaky, eyes filling with tears like he’s terrified. He might be. Mark reaches out with his hand and holds the boy’s waist, vision blurring at the edges. 

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” He slurs as his adrenaline starts to fade dangerously. 

“No, no, no, Mark please don’t go into shock. Stay awake for me. Open your fucking eyes!” He sounds like he’s crying. Mark tilts his head back against the seat when it becomes to heavy to keep upright, white dots dancing in front of his vision, but not quite enough to blind him from the sight of his boy. Looking so scared but so beautiful. He loves the way his hair falls over his forehead when he doesn’t push it back. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He slurs, and Ethan laughs through his tears, leaning forward to press a salty kiss to his lips. It’s the greatest feeling in the world. 

“Keep your eyes on me, then, okay?” That voice asks sweetly. He wants to hear that voice everyday for his whole life, probably. It doesn’t take a bullet to the shoulder for him to put words to the feelings he’s had for a while now. He knows what he’s feeling. 

“Okay, I love you.” Mark mumbles with his fading energy. His heart feels like it’s beating too fast, and he can’t keep his eyes open anymore as he suddenly feels the pain that the adrenaline was blocking before. 

He can only feel the agonising pain that rips through his body as if he’s being torn in half for a few seconds, before his brain shuts it down for him, and he’s out. 

-

When he wakes up, it’s to a steady beeping and a groggy feeling over his whole body. Almost like he’s fallen asleep all over. Having woken up in hospitals before, he knows it’s probably morphine. He’s thankful for it, though, because he knows the huge bandage on his shoulder means plenty of pain being subdued. 

He blinks the sleepy haze from his eyes that only happens after anaesthesia and looks around the dim room, neck aching from prolonged position as he looks to the cushioned recliner next to the bed. Ethan is curled up in the chair, eyebrows furrowed worriedly even in his sleep, covered in a thin blanket. Mark smiles at the sight. As far as hospital stays go, this one is already the sweetest. 

He tries to open his mouth to talk, but he just rasps uselessly and coughs as it itches his throat. Ethan startles awake and makes a surprised noise, immediately up and sat on the bed next to him, using the bed remote to slowly tilt him upright just enough so he can drink some water. The boy tilts the liquid into his mouth and wipes at whatever escapes with a napkin. 

“More?” He asks when the cup is empty, eyes a bit glossy. Mark declines with a shake of his head and reaches out his hand that isn’t connected to a bullet wound, clutching Ethan’s sweater at his torso, feeling the soft fabric. He wasn’t wearing it when the shooting happened. 

“How long?” Mark whispers, cringing at how it scratches his throat. He must’ve been intubated with how weak his voice is. He can’t feel the pain, only the itch of it. 

“About 14 hours. Thankfully the bullet didn’t fuck you up too badly, so the surgery wasn’t terribly long. You’ve been here resting for most of the time.” 

“Fuck..Montana.” Mark complains, knowing that if it’s been 14 hours Ethan must have his first Montana show in just a few more. They were meant to fly out of Seattle this morning. 

“Seriously? You get shot by a whole ass gun and you’re worried about my gig?” The boy laughs in disbelief, and it does sound a bit silly said out loud like that. Mark smiles sheepishly. 

“I know someone who can replace me—“ he coughs again with the itching of his throat, sounding like a grandpa who’s smoked 80 packs a day. 

“Fuck off, I postponed the tour, babe. Stop worrying your pretty little head and just get better.” Ethan fiddles with Mark’s hair, combing the strands back over his head. It feels really damn nice. 

“Fans are gonna be mad.” He mumbles worriedly, turning his cheek to plant a kiss on Ethan’s wrist, next to his face as he musses his hair. 

“Actually, there was hardly a negative response. Everyone is just being really supportive, glad we’re okay. I was going to wait to show you this..but since we’re on the topic.” He leans away and picks up a newspaper from the rolling table next to the bed, holding it up so he can see. 

On the front page, the top headline reads ‘BODYGUARD TAKES BULLET FOR MEGASTAR’ below the bold words are two printed photos, probably taken by the fans that were surrounding them. The first is from behind Mark, showing his struggle to subdue the shooter, one arm behind himself pushing Ethan away from the danger. He hadn’t even realised he’d done that. 

The second photo is of Mark pulling Ethan from the fans, face riddled with worry, not even noticing the blurred out wound on his own shoulder. Looking at his own face, he feels a bit of sense of dread. 

Nobody looks at their employer like that. That’s the face of somebody who’s terrified the person they love has been hurt. It’s undeniable. Surely everyone knows how. He’s fucked. They’re both fucked. 

He lowers the paper, heart racing as he abruptly remembers the hazy details of that car ride to the hospital, cheeks heating up. Ethan takes the paper, smiling softly. It must have shown on his face. 

“Remembering what you said in the car?” The boy asks cheekily, eyes sparkly. 

“Little bit.” Mark croaks in embarrassment. God, he told Ethan he loves him. Their kiss count hasn’t even reached double digits. What is wrong with him? Why would he say that so early? It must have been the adrenaline. He did kind of think he was going to die, granted. 

Before he can worry about it for too long, Ethan climbs fully onto the bed, cuddling up to his uninjured side, cupping his cheek. Mark holds him with his good arm, curled around his small back. It feel really nice. 

“You took a bullet for me. I didn’t need to hear the words to know.” He murmurs, then kisses him gently. Mark makes a noise, letting Ethan take the lead, content on just being here with him. 

“Technically it’s my job.” He says when they part, brushing his nose over Ethan’s soft cheek. 

“I once had a bodyguard run out of a room when a balloon popped. It doesn’t matter what papers you sign saying you’ll make a decision, it only matters what you actually do in that split second.” 

“How much trouble are we in?” He asks painfully, frowning at just the possibilities. 

“It’s not the worst. After the shooting video was published, rumours of us being together immediately started, of course. It hasn’t even been a day but the fans are digging up old photos and videos where we just glance at each other or video of us backstage at Jim Cameron’s show. They’re pulling up blurry photos of me looking like I hate life during outings with Kara.” 

“Shit..and management?” 

“We had a meeting. Because of your bravery and attempted sacrifice, they’re willing to let you continue with us, but we can’t confirm anything. We have to hide it. My sightings with Kara are going to increase a lot, and we’ll probably have to pretend we hate each other in public.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Mark sighs guiltily, closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to face it. God, more fake girlfriend shit?? More hiding?? 

“Hey, can’t you see I’m happy? Mark,” Ethan laughs, poking his cheek so he’ll open his eyes, “don’t you get what this means? We can be together. They are letting us be together.”

“Yeah, behind closed doors—“

“It’s worth it. I would pretend to date a million girls if I still get to wake up next to you every day. That’s all I need. It’s so much more than enough. We don’t have to wait until September 13th.” His smile is infectious. Mark can’t help but follow along, tilting his head up to kiss him a bit. 

“We don’t have to wait.” He repeats horsely, stomach fluttering. 

Ethan giggles and lies down for a cuddle, face to his neck. He presses some kisses there, and Mark closes his eyes, imagining waking up like this for the rest of tour. Even after, he thinks. During every tour. Every day, actually. Every day forever. It’s not the painkillers giving him this feeling. He truly wants it. He wants forever. 

“Oh, and I love you too.” The boy murmurs, smiling into his neck. Mark holds him tighter, feeling nearly dizzy with that confession. 

Though Mark will deny it to the ends of the Earth later, his heart monitor beeps audibly faster after those words are said. They fall asleep like that, giggling about nothing and mumbling incoherently to each other. 

It’s the best hospital stay of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure yall read the update in the top note, and leave any feedback in the comments! See ya soon enough 💚💚


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